Five Times Elliot and Olivia Shared a Bed
by MISSYAlexandra
Summary: Five different related scenarios in which Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson shared a bed as partners and as something more. AU: Elliot and Kathy are divorced.
1. Necessity

**A/N: Hi guys! This is my first SVU fanfiction, although some of you may remember me from other fandoms. Hello either way! I hope you enjoy the story and come back for the following chapters.**

The first time had been out of necessity.

Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler had been en route to Boston to interview a victim of a rapist whose MO had been similar to a horrific string of violent rapes in New York. The pair had one goal – to provide closure and a semblance of justice to these women who had their lives torn apart by one sick, twisted man. They weren't prepared to allow anything to hinder the progress of their investigation, not even heavy January snow.

Or so they thought.

The snow began softly falling when they left the precinct in New York. It persisted the whole way out of the city and across the border into Connecticut, ever so subtly increasing in volume as they drove closer to their destination. By the time they found themselves in the small town of Ashford, the snow was plummeting from the sky, totally obscuring any hope of making it any further tonight.

Unwilling to slip off the road and crash, Elliot pulled into the first motel off the 84 Interstate he could find.

"'Good Snoo Motel'?" questioned Olivia, reading the sign as it appeared. The two last non-functioning letters of the illuminated word 'Snooze' left a lot of room for ambiguity about the purpose of the motel itself and only served to increase the sleaziness.

Elliot only shrugged casually in response.

Inside, it was evident that the staff at the so called 'Good Snoo Motel' were handpicked by the owners. Richard, as his nametag proudly read, came across as nothing less than sleazy. Slicked greasy hair, overpowering cologne, way too much chest on display and an adult magazine spread out on the counter were all qualities of this fine specimen of a man.

Richard raked his gaze up Olivia's body, devoting more time to her chest than anywhere else, before regretfully dragging his eyes up to her face.

"Now what can I do for you, lil lady?" inquired Richard in a long drawl, lazily snapping his gum around the confines his mouth that Olivia suspected were long overdue for a clean.

Elliot frowned, stepping around Olivia, blocking her from view, disliking the creepy attendant's rather enthusiastic and apparent appreciation of his partner.

"We need two rooms, adjoining if possible," demanded Elliot.

Richard regarded him sceptically. He turned his back to the two, hunted around in a nearby drawer and produced one key for room 17, sliding it over into Elliot's reach.

"Sir, you and thirty other people have all come in demanding the same thing: a roof over their head and a bed at a cheap rate, all you travellin' folk. This is the best I can do for you, or you're welcome to sleep in your car in the parking lot. Except your pretty lady, she has somewhere to stay even if you decide not to," he winked.

"No, we'll take the room, thanks," growled Elliot, snatching the key off the counter and tugging Olivia along by the arm toward the rooms.

Once they were safely ensconced within the dingy, dated and disastrous motel room, Olivia made a beeline for the shower, desperate to eradicate the chill of winter that had seeped far into her bones. She stood under the scalding spray, the coldest parts of her body, her hands and feet, burning as the rest of her gratefully absorbed the warmth. She considered the strangeness of the circumstances that had lead them to Good Snoo tonight and the situation—no, scrap that, _potential minefield—_she was about to walk into once she left the safety of the four walls that made up the bathroom.

Grabbing the low quality white towel that was supplied, she quickly dried off, redressed and returned to the main room of their accommodation, only to find Elliot creating a makeshift bed from the ancient floral couch and the spare bedding from the cupboard.

"Elliot," she caught his attention "What are you doing?"

"Making my bed, Liv," he replied, gesturing to the half made up couch in front of him.

"The bed's already made, so there's no use making another," she reasoned.

"Bed's for you, Liv, I'll take the couch," he dismissed, continuing to pile blankets on the couch.

"Elliot, for God's sake we're both adults and it's freezing. We can share a bed, it's not a big deal," she protested.

"Liv, are you sure?" asked Elliot, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck "Do you want to put the cushions from the couch down the middle of the bed?" he suggested.

"Not unless you're going to put your cold feet on me in the middle of the night," replied Olivia, climbing into the bed and wrapping the blankets around her cold body. Elliot wordlessly accepted her reasoning, peeling back the covers on the empty side and sliding in next to her, the bed dipping under his weight. Olivia closed her eyes and feigned sleep; this was going to be a long night for sure. 

3am eventually rolled around and Olivia was still wide awake. It had little to do with Elliot's overwhelming presence and more to do with the decreasing temperature in the room. He had been asleep for hours; his soft, yet noticeable deep breaths were a total giveaway. While Olivia, on the other hand, had spent the better part of the past four hours attempting to keep herself warm and cover up her shivering.

Would it really be so bad, seeking some warmth from her partner? It wasn't as if either of them would be committing any kind of moral trepidation, they were both single. It wasn't as if Cragen would find out they were sleeping in the same bed, much less that Olivia Benson was contemplating snuggling with her partner in the previously mentioned bed.

But what would this mean in the cruel, honest light of day? Would it be seen for what Olivia had intended, avoiding becoming an icicle, or something more romantically geared? She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating her next move.

Oh, to hell with it.

She scooted closer to her partner, who was currently radiating an incredible amount of heat, but stopped short of actually touching him; the close proximity was enough to eradicate some of the painful cold she was feeling.

Sleeping Elliot, on the other hand, apparently had other ideas. Upon sensing her nearness, he snaked one muscular arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, her back flush against his chest. As their legs began to tangle, Olivia started freaking out. Why on earth was sleeping with her _partner_ of all people feeling so damn good? She'd bet her next paycheque that Munch and Fin don't sleep like this!

She needed a little bit of distance, maybe Elliot's line of pillows weren't such a bad idea after all. Was that why he suggested them, because he was well aware of the fact that he was a glorified snuggler in his sleep? Olivia attempted to pry his arm away from her, but his only response was to hold her tighter and nuzzle her hair, mumbling something that vaguely sounded like her name.

Olivia felt her eyes grow heavy, her eyelashes kissing her cheeks for a little longer than the average blink. Elliot's warmth was overwhelming. She decided that maybe she could sleep for awhile like this, then later escape the warmth of Elliot's embrace. Okay, just a little sleep. 

The next morning, Elliot was painfully reminded that neither of them had closed the curtains last night before they went to sleep. Beaming rays of sun shone in through the large glass window and straight into his eyes.

He took account of his current situation carefully; crappy hotel room, crappy bed, crappy pillows, crappy blankets… except for the Olivia Benson blanket that was currently curled into him, the gentle rise and fall of her back telling him that she was still sound asleep.

He regretfully removed himself from bed to deal with the irritating light that was currently beaming through the glass. The snow had stopped falling, so they would be able to continue onto Boston today. After drawing the blinds closed, he knew he had two options: either get ready for the day and wait for Olivia to wake up or get back in bed with Olivia and pretend he never woke up and that the curtains were closed all along.

The latter was certainly the most appealing, and after all, it was only 6:30am.


	2. Convenience

The second time was out of convenience.

After cold January days and nights spent in New York, Boston and all the strange little towns in between, Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler had finally caught the Boston Boroughs Rapist. The perp, who was caught in the act, had been apprehended two days prior and was arraigned earlier this morning, being remanded until his trial. The snow had been cleared off the roads and no more had fallen, making the trip from Boston back to New York rather easy for the two detectives.

Although there were few victories in this job, solace was found in being able to stop someone from ruining another innocent person's life. Upon their return, Elliot, Olivia, Munch, Fin, Cragen, Casey and Huang went out for a small celebratory dinner at a local Thai restaurant in Midtown.

"The thing I don't get is why Jeffries came to New York, it's totally out of his home territory, why risk it?" questioned Casey, swallowing the last mouthful of her shiraz.

"Who knows, he probably saw someone who fit the profile of his type and disregarded his location," replied Elliot in disgust.

"It just doesn't make sense to me," sighed Casey, dropping her serviette back onto the table.

"Sometimes it just doesn't, Casey," said Olivia.

"The perps are just sickos and that's all it comes down to, their actions can rarely ever be explained," offered Fin, the others seated around the table nodded in agreement.

"Sorry to break up the party, but I am well en route to the land of Nod," apologised Cragen, stifling a yawn as he pushed his chair out from the table.

"10:30? How did it get so late?" exclaimed Olivia, mirroring Cragen's movement and pulling her coat off the back of her chair.

"I better be heading off too, thanks for a good night everyone," Munch bid his farewells, tipping his hat at his colleagues.

"Liv, I'll drive you home," offered Elliot, taking Olivia's coat from her hands and holding it open for her.

"You sure?" she asked, slipping into the outstretched coat, putting on her woollen scarf and doing up the buttons on her coat.

"Of course, it's on my way home anyway," affirmatively replied Elliot.

The short drive back to Olivia's apartment was filled with comfortable silence brought on by years of familiarity with Elliot. There would be an occasional comment about something happening outside of the car or a question about nothing in particular, but neither of them felt the need to force conversation.

"Thanks for the ride, El," she thanked him.

"Blink your lights when you get in," responded Elliot as Olivia was going to open the car door, effectively halting her next movement. She locked eyes with him, knowing he too was having flashbacks to the first year they had been partners. Things had been different then, more complicated. Elliot was married and very much taken off the market and she had foolishly decided to sleep with Brian Cassidy. Except eight years ago, Elliot was just her partner who happened to be incredibly attractive and well-muscled.

But now, under different circumstances that involved far less complication, Olivia was feeling brave and spurred on by an unknown source. Was it those two glasses of wine she had? Or was that three? Whatever it was, she was glad for the added courage it was bolstering her with.

"El," she began, running her tongue over her lip, considering what to say next "Did you want to come up? Have a cup of coffee?" inquired Olivia.

Elliot turned in the seat of his car, facing her properly. "I'd like that, but can we skip the coffee?" he requested.

Olivia's horrified and confused face quickly lead to the realisation of how ambiguously he had phrased his question that, without a doubt, had led her to the stark conclusion that he was asking for a little more than a hot beverage.

"I mean could we have tea or cocoa instead of coffee? If I have any now I'll still be awake in three hours' time," clarified Elliot, softly laughing at his slip up.

"Oh," smirked Olivia "I'm sure that's not too much of a troublesome request," conceded Olivia, fixing him with an arched eyebrow. Elliot could only laugh in response, following Olivia up to her apartment.

"Tea or cocoa?" queried Olivia, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard.

"I'll have to go cocoa tonight, something sweet would be good," Elliot responded, perching himself on a bar stool at the breakfast bar. He observed Olivia in her natural environment as she gathered the required ingredients for their warm drinks. Her home was her sanctuary, where she felt unburdened by the demands of the job that took its toll on each of them from time to time. In her kitchen she was Olivia, not Detective Benson, and he could see how a simple environment change relieved her of some of the work-related stresses she experienced.

A short five minutes later, Olivia was expertly pouring the steaming chocolaty mixture into the mugs and added two marshmallows to each. Yes, it was true, there was definitely an Olivia hidden under the Detective Benson that Elliot Stabler spent each day with, only serving to make her more of an incredible mystery.

Olivia passed one of the mugs to Elliot, their fingers lightly brushing during the exchange, but neither of them made a move to acknowledge it.

The pair headed to the couch, easily dropping down into the suede covered sofa.

"What do you think Jeffries is going to get?" asked Elliot, taking the first sip of the delicious beverage.

"Probably life with no parole," guessed Olivia, following suit with her own beverage.

"I don't think even the best attorney could get that monster much better than that, now that the death penalty has been well and truly taken off the table," agreed Elliot.

"Do you think it was right? Abolishing death row?" questioned Olivia.

"Yes and no," Elliot answered quickly "Yes, because we're taking a human life and no, because the people we sentence to death row have already taken someone else's life, whether figuratively or literally and that really does not sit right with me,"

"At least life with no parole means these monsters get to spend the rest of their miserable existences in a small steel cage where they're away from the general public and are left to deal with the burden of their conscience," reasoned Olivia.

"Very true," concurred Elliot, raising his mug.

The pair continued discussing a myriad of topics, Elliot's kids, work, Olivia's plans to renovate the bathroom in her apartment and the backyard barbeque Elliot was planning on hosting one weekend everyone had off.

There must have been some kind of magical potion in that cocoa. Elliot felt his eyes beginning to drop and he leant back against the couch, just for a second.

"El," said Olivia, nudging his knee with her bare foot.

"Five more minutes," mumbled Elliot, sinking deeper into the couch.

"Elliot," repeated Olivia, a little louder this time.

"I'm awake," he replied groggily, forcing his eyes open to look at his partner.

"Somehow I don't think you should drive home," stated Olivia.

"Nah, I'll be fine," he disagreed, glancing at the clock "How long was I asleep for?" he asked, stumbling slightly as he stood up.

"About fifteen minutes and there is no way I'm letting you drive home," commanded Olivia, rising from the couch so she was toe to toe with him. Despite being shorter than usual as she wasn't wearing her boots, the height difference made no impact on her ability to convince Elliot. "Plus you'll get to sleep in tomorrow morning, I'm closer to the precinct than you are," Olivia added for good measure.

"Okay, where am I sleeping in that case? Small couch?" question Elliot, jutting his chin out.

"Only if you want to throw your back out for the next week, I have a queen size bed," stated Olivia, heading in the direction of her bedroom. "Or there's always the floor!" she helpfully suggested over her shoulder.

Who was Elliot to turn down an invitation to sleep in his partner's bed _with _his partner? Although last time this occurred, neither of them really had a viable choice; it was either share the dingy motel bed or someone would freeze in their sleep. Olivia's mere offer was indicative that she not only enjoyed it last time, but wanted a repeat.

He entered Olivia's bedroom, finding her taking off the decorative pillows and folding the blankets and sheet back before heading off to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Elliot shrugged, peeling off his dress shirt and pants, leaving him in just his undershirt and boxers, before slipping into the bed on what he presumed to be his side. He was determined to wait up for Olivia to join him to discuss the newfound development in their relationship that somehow involved sleeping together, but there was something so enticing about the silkiness of the sheets and the softness of the mattress that when coupled with his already sleepy state, sent him straight to sleep.

Olivia emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, having completed her nightly routine, to find Elliot on his side, sound asleep. She smiled at the scene; he looked so peaceful in his sleep, somehow younger and carefree. She climbed in beside him and switched off the lamp at her bedside, quickly falling asleep too.

The next morning, Olivia woke up before her alarm even had the opportunity to rouse her from sleep. She took stock of her situation, once again lightly pinned to Elliot by the muscular arm wrapped around her waist and Elliot's legs tangled with hers, the coarse hair brushing against hers. She felt strangely refreshed; most mornings she was able to identify with a dinosaur or a bulldozer in terms of sluggishness, but not this morning.

She attempted to move Elliot's arm to begin the day a little differently, maybe read a bit of her current neglected book or watch the city commence the day.

"Five more minutes," Elliot rumbled in her ear repeating himself from the night before as he tightened his hold on her.

Olivia wasn't going to even consider arguing with him, she could start her day an entirely different way. Although she was aware that the two of them needed to discuss exactly what was transpiring between them, when random affectionate touches and sharing a bed had suddenly become acceptable. But not now, not when it was barely 6am and the world was still asleep. Olivia gave into temptation and shut her eyes, allowing the alarm to actually do its job when they were supposed to get up. Their talk could wait, just for a bit longer.


	3. Intoxication

The third time was out of intoxication.

Olivia Benson had a tough job. Any detective, whether they had actually worked in the Special Victims Unit or not, would confirm this. Day in and day out, Olivia saw some utterly devastating and shocking things that no person should ever have to see, much less experience. Usually, she was very good at compartmentalising the horrors her job brought to her life; in some ways it sickened her that she was able to come home of a night, cook something that vaguely resembled dinner and turn on the TV to drown out her thoughts as best as possible.

But her ability to compartmentalise was only restricted to the scope of _most_ nights. The other nights, like tonight, often brought her to a bar where nobody knew her, where she could sit in silence, let the slow burn of the alcohol numb her tired bones, aching muscles and overactive thoughts. It was nights like tonight where she saw more of her mother in her than she ever did; catching a glimpse of herself in the glass liquor cabinets behind the bar, she saw the unmistakable facial features she had inherited and the all too familiar whiskey enclosed in her hand. Yes, Olivia Benson was more like her mother than she would ever care to admit.

She took a purposeful swig from the glass, downing the remaining contents. Tonight was not a night where she would savour the high end liquor, tonight she wanted to feel something, a reminder that she and her soul were still alive.

"Can I get another whiskey, please? Straight up," she caught the bartender's attention, slurring her request.

The server frowned. Even if there were no legal requirements of duty of care to the customer, Bob the bartender was going to cut her off. She was a sad sight, slightly smudged makeup, mussed hair and a look of defeat taking up residence in her eyes. He'd seen her here before, served her drinks and even kept her company at the end of the night sometimes. Tonight, a few drinks and the kind word of an ex-army bartender weren't going to help her.

"Olivia," he spoke softly "I'm going to give you a lemonade and then I'm going to call someone for you. Your partner?" he inquired.

Olivia nodded, pulling her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans and placing it on the bar for Bob.

"Elliot," she whispered, shaking the glass in a feeble attempt to force the residual ice cubes to melt.

Bob took the phone from the bar, turned his back to Olivia and began scrolling through her contacts until he found who he was after: Elliot Stabler. He initiated the call and it quickly connected after two short rings.

"Hey Liv," came the masculine voice down the phone. He sounded as equally to Bob as Olivia had. Olivia always spoke very highly of Elliot and although Bob did not believe Olivia would ever vocalise it, he sensed there were feelings lurking under the surface that were more than their status of "just friends" that Olivia often claimed. Why on earth were these two not with each other tonight?

"Elliot, this is Bob from Sardinia Bar on 51st. Olivia's had enough and I think both of us would really appreciate it if you could come and pick her up. Yeah, she's doing okay. Great, see you soon," Bob spoke down the phone.

Fifteen minutes later, Elliot Stabler walked through the double doors and instantly spotted his partner seated at the bar. He approached Bob, extending his hand to shake in a gesture of thanks and then provided his credit card to cover any remaining costs that were currently on Olivia's tab.

"Hey Liv," he greeted, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.

"Hey Elliot," she grinned unabashedly in response, sliding off the stool and knocking it over in the process. "Where have you been all my life?" she inquired drunkenly.

"Let's get you home, why don't we?" suggested Elliot, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her up, uncertain of how steady she would be on her feet.

"Thanks," he said to Bob over his shoulder as he guided Olivia towards the door.

"My pleasure," replied Bob sincerely, genuinely pleased he could bring a bit of solace to one of his favourite customers just by making a simple phone call.

"Elliot, have you ever wondered why animals make the sounds they do? Why does a cat say 'meow' and a cow says 'moo' and nothing else?" she questioned, pondering this aspect of the world as Elliot drove. He only smirked in response.

"What are we doing here? This isn't my apartment," she queried, taking in her current surroundings.

"This is your apartment!" Olivia concluded, whirling around in her seat to face Elliot. "Why are we at your apartment and not mine?"

"I have a guest room and you have an uncomfortable couch," Elliot replied, smirking.

"We don't need a spare bed or an uncomfortable couch, we could have slept in my bed TOGETHER," suggested Olivia saucily.

"Olivia," growled Elliot, warning creeping into his tone as he got out of the car, heading around to Olivia's side to open the door for her. 

The pair headed up the stairs into the foyer, then travelled in the elevator up to Elliot's apartment on the fifth floor, somehow rather quickly, despite Olivia's currently intoxicated state.

Elliot took his time trying to find the key for his apartment, fumbling with the lock. Behind him, Olivia grew impatient. She took stock of the man in front of her; black tee deliciously stretched across his muscular back. Faded jeans that accentuated his shapely butt. Yes, Detective Elliot Stabler was one hell of a fine specimen and there was nothing between Olivia and her Elliot now.

Finally, the door opened and the two made it inside, the soft click of the lock as the door closed notified them that they were now secluded from the imposing outside world. Elliot begun emptying his pockets, carefully placing the contents from his jeans on the end table in the foyer to his apartment.

"Elliot," spoke Olivia huskily, tapping him on the shoulder, the change in the tone of her voice had him turning around quickly.

Before Elliot could even formulate a response, Olivia had thrown herself at him, fusing her mouth to his.

It felt so good to finally be able to do this, her lips sliding against his as she finally kissed him after eight years of their partnership. She ran her hands through his hair, her fingers purposefully grasping at the short strands. He grunted in response, grasping her hips with his large hands and pulling her impossibly closer to him. She ran her tongue across his bottom lip, seeking entrance into his warm mouth. He nibbled gently on her top lip, eliciting a moan from somewhere deep inside her. Olivia's hands made a move for the hem of his black tee shirt, her cold hands brushing against his warm abdomen.

Suddenly, the reality of what they were doing and what it could lead to in a matter of minutes hit him like a tonne of bricks. He felt a wave of anger wash over him, how could he have become so out of control with Olivia not even half an hour after receiving a call that she was on the verge of extreme drunkenness?

He broke away from her, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. Oh boy, that woman could kiss.

"Liv, not now," he warned.

"Why not?" she asked sadly "Am I not good enough for you?" she questioned, feeling angry at his obvious rejection.

"Olivia, if we're going to do this it's going to be when we're both sober and know what we're doing and what we want," he told her bluntly.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," she replied saucily "And I know exactly what I want," she told him with certainty as she sidled up to him, her fingers making another attempt to grab the hem of his tee shirt.

"I'm sorry Liv, I can't do this to you," he told her sincerely, covering her hands with his to prevent her from trying to undress him again.

Satisfied with his actions, he placed his hands on her shoulders and rotated her in the direction of his guest bedroom, carefully taking the time to knead the tight, knotted flesh of her shoulders, hearing her purr in appreciation.

He closed the door once she was safely ensconced within the room, leaving her time to undress and get ready for bed. He suddenly realised that she didn't have any clothes to sleep in, so he gathered a tee shirt and boxers from his closet for her. He left the clothes outside the door, briefly informing her of this and then left her in peace for a second time to tidy up anything around the house.

Five minutes later, he returned to find her dressed in his clothes and tucked in bed under the covers, stifling a yawn.

"Elliot, come to bed," requested Olivia from the comfort of the spare bed, her head poking out from under the covers.

"That's not a good idea," he denied her, shaking his head.

"But El, I sleep so much better when you're next to me," she confessed. There was a certain truth about alcohol that had been proven to Elliot time and time again – it was a truth serum that incited honesty from anyone who consumed enough.

At this moment, Elliot was torn. The choice was easily his either way, but somehow, that didn't make it any easier for him to reach a decision. He could leave now, head out the door and sleep alone in his own bed while his partner slept off the alcohol induced haze, while also denying her request. Alternatively, he could give into both their wants and join her in bed to catch some decent sleep. Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, he also slept better when she was with him. Oh, to hell with it.

He toed off his shoes and removed his jeans, slinging them across the back of the chair in the spare room, then pulled up the edge of the blankets and slid in next to Olivia.

She wasted no time, scooting across the cotton sheets to rest her head in the crook of his neck and wrapped an arm around his waist. Sighing deeply in content, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep quickly, even for her.

This whole "sleeping together" thing was becoming frighteningly familiar and even normal for them. If both of them were finding it easier to sleep with the other around, where did that leave them? They were work partners and friends, for god's sake! Doubling this with Olivia's drunken confession earlier, what started as necessity and convenience for them was quickly becoming something he enjoyed and couldn't live, or more appropriately, sleep, without.

As Elliot stared at white plastered ceiling of his spare bedroom, one thing became painfully apparent to him – they needed to talk and to do it fast!


End file.
